I don't miss
the neon-light-decorated
high-rise buildings.
The polluted noise
buried deep underground.
The vastness of strangeness
turned into a one-of-a-kind
work of art.
I don't miss
the soothing loneliness
of crowded streets
and blurred faces.
The empowering freedom
of wandering headphones
and acoustic guitars
playing to no one and everyone.
The slightly-too-tipsy nights
questioning our existence.
I don't miss any of it.
I don't miss
the skyline from the heath.
New lovers kissing
with an immediate sense of urgency.
Old ones holding hands
comforted by the promise of forever.
I don't miss
us, the way we were,
lugging crates of dreams
to every flat we moved into
like our lives depended on it
and the universe relied on us
to get it right.
I don't miss any of it.
I don't miss
all the words I used to write
or the poetry I used to read
or the love I used to give.
I really don't.
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